We Still Want You, Remus
by Starblaze and Solaris
Summary: Remus has spent the night as a wolf, and it wasn't too bad, as full moon nights go. So it seems to him to be a Very Bad Thing, (complete with capitals,) when his friends are skipping class to talk to him.


StarblazeAndSolaris SAS SolStar

**Sol: I'm afraid you have me to blame for this one. I wanted to write a Marauders adventure/friendship one, so here it is.**

**Star: I encouraged her. I apologise, but then, she was encouraging me.**

**Sol: Hey!**

**Rating: K? We think.**

**Genre: Friendship**

**Disclaimer: Would we still have to do the French oral exam if we were JKR? We're still doing the blasted thing, so that's a no.**

**We Still Want You, Remus.**

"We have to check first! We can't just spring this theory on him if it's complete nonsense." The dark-haired boy pushed his glasses back up his nose as he gestured wildly. The others paused in their path to the door.

"I suppose there's a hint of reason in that," admitted the other dark-haired boy slowly, rotating on his heel to where his friend was sitting in the middle of the dormitory floor, "after all, it's rather insulting if it isn't true."

The third boy, a slightly tubby blond, piped up.

"How do we prove it without following him though? When he's transformed, he's dangerous." The dark-haired boys nodded solemnly.

"What are the other distinctive features of werewolves though? What do they do that we don't?" asked the first boy. The second snorted his laughter, before replying condescendingly.

"Well, James-y boy, they turn into huge, bloodthirsty wolves once a month and tear anyone near them to shreds."

The blond gasped, his face lighting up.

"James, Sirius, I've got it! The day after the full moon, we can sneak into the hospital wing and see for ourselves if he is there, and injured! If he can't hunt, he'd still smell his human self on his fur, so he'd bite himself to get to it!"

"Pete, you detective _genius_!" James leapt up off the floor with a cry, sending the book in his lap spinning to the floor. The other joined him in praising their blushing companion.

"It's not often that you have ideas, but they aren't half good when you do!" The blond boy's face now closely resembled a tomato, but the other boys were too busy planning to notice. The taller of the two, the one called Sirius, clapped Peter on the shoulder as he turned to the messy-haired boy who was already rooting through his trunk.

"James, where's that cloak of yours?" James pulled it from the trunk with a flourish, the grey silk floating a moment in the air before settling in his hand.

"Gotit. We're going first thing tomorrow, so I'm getting some shut-eye." The others nodded, and the three of them quickly changed and slid into their beds. Then Sirius stuck his oar in.

"Before breakfast."

"Aww, Sirius!" Both darker-haired boys laughed with Peter at his predictable whinge.

Remus Lupin hurt. Big time. From his toes to his temples, he ached and practically throbbed with pain. The thick mists of unconsciousness were slowly peeling back, sharpening the pain into concentrated jabs, as his limbs twitched and the muscles and bones rearranged themselves, relaxing back into their normal shape. Cold air rushed into his lungs as his chest heaved, sharp lines of pain along his torso increasing for a moment before fading to a welcome numbness as the breath was released in a cool mist. The process repeated itself as he pulled himself from the post-transformation stupor and began to catalogue his wounds. He grimaced, winced and straightened his expression as he realised that he had missed a long gash from his temple to his chin. He didn't move, just hoped and prayed to whatever deities were listening that the cut on his face was inflicted by an item in the shack, not his own claws. He had no idea how he would explain away a facial scar. He waited, lying patiently on the stone floor, silent and almost immobile. Eventually, that beautiful, wonderful sound of careful footsteps climbed the stairs, crossed the landing and entered the room in which he lay. The usual murmurs of reassurance and comfort followed, mixed with muttered spells that stopped the bleeding and dulled the pain. Remus felt himself drift back towards sleep just as he was lifted from the hard floor onto the softer surface of a conjured stretcher.

Three boys pushed gently on the door, watching in silence as it swung slowly open. They crept through, shuffling slightly to stay together. A gasp escaped each of the trio's lips as they observed the bed within, or, more accurately, the bed's occupant. He lay there, still and silent, chest barely moving as he breathed. His face was deathly pale, a light pink line standing out, livid against his temple and cheek, shining under a layer of creamy fluid. One arm was resting on the opposite shoulder, held there by the sharp white triangle of a muggle sling. The sheets had been arranged so that one leg was covered whilst the other was bare; or as bare as it could be when from thigh to ankle it was covered with a stiff white bandage that pulsed every few seconds with amber light. The protruding foot was pale, criss-crossed by a few silver scars that went unnoticed by the boys.

The three boys concealed beneath the cloak were frozen in shock. The sight of their friend at Death's door made their breathing hitch and sent a thrill of horror up their spines. The moment was broken as the door, which had slid shut without them noticing, burst open. The assistant mediwitch backed in, holding a tray in both hands. She set it on the bedside table, carefully rearranging the sparse meal of soup and bread laid out there. She pulled her wand from the pocket of her apron and held it over the sleeping boy's leg, muttering spells under her breath. The pulsing light morphed from amber to green, and an expression of self-satisfaction flooded her face. Another flick of the wand and the bandage was gone, leaving the hidden teens to stifle their gasps with their fists.

The boy slept on, unaware that his three dorm mates were ogling his leg. Or more precisely, his scars. For the pale skin of his leg was laced with silver marks, some thin and hardly noticeable, others raised, puckered and rigid. A single, huge, thick scar twisted its uneven way down the outside of his leg, carving its way from mid-thigh to ankle. The scars crossed each other, overlapped to make a web of markings across his skin. But before the boys could sneak closer in morbid fascination, the mediwitch's assistant had pulled the bedclothes back over the mutilated limb. Glancing at each other and nodding in instant agreement, the concealed trio followed the assistant as she tucked her wand back into its pocket and left the room. As she headed for the elderly matron's office, the boys crossed the open infirmary ward and quietly escaped into the corridor.

James swept the cloak from their shoulders and stared at his friends. They stared back at him, unable to comprehend what they had just seen and what it all meant. Eventually, Sirius spoke.

"So it's true," he said softly. "He is a werewolf."

"He is." James agreed, just as softly.

"He's also Remus," added Peter, chewing on his fingernail.

"He is," repeated James. A moment passed.

"Sirius, are you okay?" Peter had paused in his brief spate of auto-cannibalism and was staring at Sirius with a nervous look on his face. Sirius stood in the middle of the corridor, hands lax and face devoid of emotion. He did not respond.

"Sirius?" asked James, worried now. Sirius' hands were curling into fists.

"Sirius!" Peter called, glancing nervously at the hospital door. When Sirius finally spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.

"How long do you reckon he has been a werewolf?" His face was bland even as his fists tightened until the knuckles were white. James and Peter froze, struck by the implications.

"He's one of the youngest in our year!" breathed James, his face paling. "He could have been ten at most, he vanished all of last year too!"

Peter was now exhibiting an unpleasant green colour.

"Didn't you see the scars? Some of them were fading – old. As in years old. What if he was so young he could hardly remember it? Poor Remus."

Sirius had his eyes shut in what appeared to be an effort to control his fury.

"And who bit him, do you think? Remus obviously locks himself up every full moon, so who would be _stupid_ enough not to? Or cruel enough?" Sirius' voice was rising from its whisper towards a full yell of rage. Peter glanced down the corridor and at the infirmary door again, fretting that someone might arrive and discover them while Sirius was ranting.

"Er, Sirius? If we get up to the dorm, we don't have to keep our voices own to avoid letting anyone else know."

"Remus kept it hidden for a reason mate," added James, still clearly unnerved. Sirius nodded, relaxing a little as James threw the cloak over them and they headed back to the dormitory.

Remus woke, feeling, as always after the full moon, as though he had been hung, drawn, quartered, and quite possibly put through his mother's hand-powered paper shredder. He flexed his arm and leg muscles, wincing slightly at the stretch, but pleased that there was no stinging pain from open wounds. His facial movement assured him that he no longer sported a gash on his cheek, and he smiled, relieved, as Assistant Pomphrey entered.

"Ah, Remus, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Quite good, thank you. I'm still aching, as always, but no worse than normal. Are there any self-inflicted wounds other than the claw marks on my stomach and side?"

"Only one. Last night really was quiet. You must be careful what you do with your left arm: your shoulder was pretty torn up. The wound still weeps, so you can stay here until it stops, if you would like."

"No thank you. May I get up?"

"Only if you let me help." Together, they slowly manoeuvred Remus from the bed, and Assistant Pomphrey helped him dress in his school robes. He then walked up and down the small side room a few times, working hard to appear steady on his feet. After forcing as much as he could of the soup and bread down his raw throat, he was ready to go.

"Well, I will see you in February, Remus. Look after yourself."

"Goodbye Assistant Pomphrey, and thank you!"

As Remus made his unsteady way down the corridor from the hospital wing, he began to construct this month's cover story. He hated lying to his friends, but it was impossible for him to stay at Hogwarts if they knew. After all, it was illegal for one of his kind to be educated, or to even possess a magical instrument such as a wand.

'So,' Remus had thought the previous year, 'I need an excuse that is both believable, and reoccurring.' So his mother had been designated 'ill,' and he had to make monthly visits to her deathbed. Recently though, his tales of sorrow and his mother's struggles had been met with increasing scepticism. She had been 'ill' for over a year and a half now, but Remus could think of nothing better to say, and procrastinated the increasingly urgent change of excuse.

"She's getting worse, getting worse," he muttered as he limped slowly down the empty hall.

When he finally heaved his exhausted body through the portrait hole, the last people he expected to see were seated in front of him.

"Hey guys, what's wrong? Why aren't you at lessons? And why are you staring at the portrait hole as though it's committed murder?" His attempt at humour had no effect.

"We're waiting for you." Remus forced his face to appear puzzled, although he was certain his skin was now a shade of pale green.

"Then why is James looking at me like he caught me kissing Evans?" James' glare intensified, and Remus did not have to fake a shudder.

"Never, ever joke about that," growled James, and Remus suppressed a smile at the thought that he should be the one growling, not James. The mental snigger, however, was quickly erased by Peter's words.

"We – we need to talk to you. Upstairs." The three of them stood from their semi-circle of seats and, with what was clearly practised precision, surrounded Remus. The werewolf boy felt his muscles stiffen, and fought to keep his panic hidden. Peter led the way up the scarlet staircase, while James and Sirius flanked Remus. They watched as he moved with an unnatural delicacy, favouring his left leg, the one they had seen, that had been broken earlier in the day. After what Remus was sure was years, but was in reality merely minutes, they were seated on their respective beds, silently watching Peter lock the door and cast silencing and imperturbable charms. Remus' heart froze. He could think of only one reason why all these precautionary measures would be taken before a conversation. Without realising it, his breathing quickened, his face drained of blood, and his eyes flickered to the open window. Adrenalin flooded his system as he sought desperately for an escape route.

'They know,' he told himself, 'they know, and it's all over.' He bowed his head, staring fixedly at his hands, which clutched the fabric of his trouser knees like a lifeline, blinking furiously to ward off tears. 'Maybe they won't hate me, hurt me for coming here. Maybe they will let me leave without telling anyone first! Maybe... but that is too much to hope. I must be calm, rational. Clinical. I hope they don't have any silver...' Bizarre, terrified thoughts chased each other in circles within Remus' mind. He glanced up to find that the other three boys were standing before him.

"We know what you are."

He did not know who said it, and did not particularly care. The 'what you are,' hurt, but it was true. He turned his head to one side, eyes shut tightly, anticipating with trepidation the first of what he was sure would be many blows.

James, Peter and Sirius exchanged confused looks. Remus was supposed to ask what this was all about. He was supposed to be talkative, or as talkative as Remus ever was. Not be so – lethargic. Peter finished with the door and shrugged at the others, who stood up and joined him.

"What do we do?" asked Sirius quietly.

"Carry on as though he asked," replied Peter with another shrug. "What else?" James nodded and they quickly crossed to stand in front of Remus, Sirius pulling the window shut as they passed. After a moment, he looked up, every muscle in his lean body trembling with tension.

"We know what you are." The instant the words fell from his lips, James cursed his thoughtless actions. Remus seemed to bypass hysterical panic, dropping directly into the kind of pathetic acceptance that comes with drawn-out, desperate terror suddenly condensing into one moment. Every muscle relaxed for a fraction of a second, before he turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut, apparently waiting for something. But what? James frowned, confused, but tried to fix his blunder.

"I mean, we know who you are, too. You're Remus. Only now we know that you have -" he paused, struggling to find the words.

"A furry problem?" asked Sirius.

"That's it, a furry little problem." Although his body remained frozen in place, Remus' face assumed an expression of bewilderment. His eyes relaxed slightly, but remained closed as he listened. Peter took a half pace forwards, raising his hand as though to touch Remus, but hesitated and lowered it.

"Remus..." his voice trailed off, but he swallowed and started again. "Remus, we don't care. It's fine." This time he actually rested his hand on Remus' shoulder, but to his surprise, Remus yelped in a very canine fashion, pushing himself away from the other boys and back towards the wall. The trembling tension had returned with a vengeance, and the trio of boys still standing exchanged confused looks.

"Remus, it's okay." Sirius crawled onto the bed and reached out to touch Remus' leg. Remus let out a whimper like a wounded animal and flinched violently, pushing his back against the wall as though he wished to fall through it. James and Peter joined the on the bed, making the bedsprings creak. Sirius' lips twitched at the sound, and he opened his mouth to comment, but shut it again at a stern look from James. Clearly this was not the time for innuendos or boyish humour. James shuffled across until he was seated against the wall, his shoulder almost touching Remus'. Sirius moved himself into a similar position on Remus' other side. Remus was now curling into himself, frantically trying to avoid touching either of the other boys. When Peter moved across to sit, cross-legged, in front of him, he suddenly burst into speech, the words flowing from his mouth like a melt-water flood overwhelming a dam.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, please, I'll go, I'll live in the hospital wing or something, please, you'll never see me again, please, I'll do whatever you want, just please, please, _please_ don't make me go home, don't send me away from Hogwarts, I need to learn, just let me get my OWLs, please, just my OWLs..." During his babbled speech Remus' head had lifted, revealing amber eyes which were filled with tears. James and Sirius squeezed in until their shoulders were pressed against Remus' thin and shaking frame and Peter rested his hand lightly on Remus' knee. The tawny-haired boy seemed bewildered, terrified and exhilarated all at once. Peter wondered vaguely if that was possible, but was drawn back to earth by James' insistent murmur.

"It's alright, Remus, we don't care. We aren't letting you go, either. We're still your friends, you're still ours. Marauders forever, remember?"

"That's right," added Sirius, "we don't mind that you have a furry little problem, but we will mind if you try to abandon us for Madam Slade and Assistant Pomphrey. Our pranks wouldn't work!" Peter nodded fervently, his lips twitching at the attempt at humour as Remus turned his head to look at him.

"I'm not so good with words, but yeah... you're still our friend, Remus, even if you are a bit – well – moony, sometimes -"

"Bingo!" Sirius bounced on the bed, causing Remus to shy away from him. "I've got it! You are, as of now, Mr. Moony!" Remus stared at him for a brief moment, then twisted and looked all three of them in the eye by turns.

"You're... you're not joking? This – you mean – it's for real?"

"Of course!" said Sirius jovially. "We need a Mr. Moony to make our group complete! And bug us to do our homework," he added as an afterthought. Remus cracked a shy smile.

"But – why?" James smiled and wrapped an arm around Remus' shoulders, moving his hand when Remus winced.

"Because you are Remus. As long as you promise not to eat us in our sleep, you are our friend. Our best friend. And occasional Astronomy tutor." Remus offered a weak smile, but added to his earlier question.

"I still don't understand, why – I'm a dark creature, a monster, why would you want to have anything to do with me?" The other three frowned.

"You are not a monster Remus! Never call yourself that!" Sirius declared, his movements almost fierce as he put an arm around Remus' back, holding him close. James shifted slightly to be closer, tightening his hold on Remus.

"You are no monster Remus. Just a boy. A school boy, an amazing wizard, and our best friend. We still want you, Remus."

Peter nodded gently.

"We still want you, Remus." The tears which had been pooling in the lycanthrope's eyes suddenly flooded out over his cheeks, dampening each of the other's shirts in turn as he hugged them tightly, sobbing,

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," until he could scarcely breathe. But his tears were of joy, his grin wide as he sat on his bed, surrounded by his friends. His friends, who knew what he was and accepted him. His friends, who wanted him around despite all the lies he had told. His _friends_.

_**Finis**_


End file.
